Song Lyrics (not mine) + cabin-mansion vocab I

27 Jan

“The only thing that I did wrong, I stayed in [Dayton four months] too long.”

In that time, my relationship with Mary, and ultimately Kim was sullied.

My impressions of both Kim and Mary were also defiled in a big way.

My memories of Kim and Mary were also tarnished when I realized what kind of people they had become or had always been–I wasn’t sure which scenario it was.

Mary besmirched her thirteen year marriage to Kim at every turn and it made me not only lose respect for her, but disgusted me as well.

That entire time in Dayton was tainted by poor choices, strife, and missteps by all involved.

“I wrote you a hundred letters I will never send. . .  Why won’t you answer me?”

While I was still living at the Cabin-Mansion and working at DVVH, I fervidly tried to recapture all I had lost, but it was too late–the damage was done.

I would get drunk almost every night (and day) and cry feverishly mourning all I had lost.

I started zealously typing all the events that were happening because I wanted to vent my pain, keep track of the unbelievable activities, and eventually write a book.

Kim was a wild card while I was there, after I left, and even in the present, running hot and cold, making me confused depressed so I wrote impassioned letters to her throughout the book.

I had many bad dreams of Mary and dreaded ever running into her in real life, so I wrote vehement letters to her as well–though they took on an angrier tone than the ones to Kim.

I started “Facebook-stalking” Kim and sent her passionate pleas to just tell me why she discontinued all communication–which maddingly, she never answered.

My “Cabin-Mansion” book is going to be one burning inscription after another, because it was such a traumatic and unbelievable experience.

“Just b/c I’m losing, doesn’t mean I’m lost. . .  Every river that I tried to cross, every door I ever tried was locked. . .  You might be a big fish in a little pond, doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

In her mid-life crises, Mary almost immediately retracted her support of my career, abjured her friendship, and recalled our entire relationship.

While I was living at the Cabin-Mansion, Mary rejected me entirely, and said she was no longer my mentor–it still makes me feel terrible and worthless even today (3 years later) as I write this.

It hurt a lot when my former mentor recanted her letters of recommendation on my behalf, and (I’m fairly certain) talked trash about me to everyone.

Worse, Mary felt the need to call the vet school I was applying to and abandon formally her former support of my acceptance, which was (of course) detrimental to my reputation.

At the end, Mary forswore her offer to provide me the fifth wheel in her yard as housing, as well as a job at her hospital.

“Painted ourselves in a corner. . .  But you could not interpret me and I could not interpret you. . .    . . .  After all that we’d been through, I could not see giving up. . .  And now we’re tumbling in a free-fall, no ones gonna go unscathed. . .”

Mary didn’t understand why I wasn’t the same person I had been before I came out to my parents and suffered my second failure from veterinary school, and I couldn’t forgive Mary for being in a mid-life crises and becoming undisciplined though her father had died days before, her niece had died a few months before, and her wife of thirteen years was becoming a full-on alcoholic.

Though I didn’t like Mary’s unrestrained, fairly open cheating on Kim, I thought she might regain her good senses–she didn’t gve me the same chance.

My heavy drinking didn’t help raise my morale, maintain Mary’s formerly high opinion of me, or minimize my already recklessbehavior.

Despite my own shortcomings, I still lost all respect for the way Mary treated people in her life, and especially her licentiouscheating.

Even at work, Mary became lewdly hostile towards me for no apparent (work-related) reason.

At the time, Mary was going through a mid-life crises, I was in my quarter-life crises, Kim was an alcoholic, and my parents were reacting to having a gay child–all of us displayed wanton behavior as a result.

Mary’s capricious values during that five month visit left me confused and conflicted.

“You’re gonna see soon that I’m not playin’, Start asking me the names I’m not sayin’, but I’m trying to be bigger than the bickering, bigger than the petty name calling. . .  Rumors, and labels, and categorization. . .

My parents knew I would no longer talk to them if they continued trying to control me, but simultaneously withholding emotional and financial support, but that didn’t stop them from their phony inquests about why I shut them out of my life.

Both my parents and Mary had ulterior motives in their quest to accuse me of being an alcoholic:  My parents had to show the community that they didn’t know my whereabouts because I had some sort of problem, and Mary had to justify her sudden horrid behavior towards me.

Soon Mary’s closest friends and her family would probe me about my drinking, my schedule, and why I wasn’t listening to anyone–I knew she was talking bad about me to everyone who would listen.

Mary became hateful towards me, because I stupidly made my investigation of her relationship with the hairdresser known, and she didn’t want me to have too much negative information on her.

I was so shattered about my life and the dysfunction going on around me, I became unable to concentrate, and I couldn’tstudy properly.

Everyone was getting their information secondhand–Mary refused to talk to me so she would glean things from Kim, my co-workers, or her friends who talked to me, and I cut my parents out of my life, so they inquired about me to everyone they came in contact with–it was a mess.

I had just about enough when Mary sent her mother and the hairdresser to research when my finals were so she could schedule the staff Christmas party on a day when I was stuck in Reno.

You can say what you want about me, keep talking while I walk away. . .  I’m taking the high road, going above you, this is the last time I’m gonna trust you. . .  All that bullshit you talk might work a lot, but it’s not gonna work today.

One of the biggest differences from my high school work experience which was pleasant, and the horrible times I went through in my post-college years, was Mary had become a nabob where she had been just starting out in those earlier years.

When I was living in the yard of the Cabin-Mansion, Mary was constantly pulling power plays on me to show me who was in charge, and to make me want to leave for good.

I ended up leaving Nevada, but not because the magnate, Mary forced me to–I had to go back to my apartment, and job at Noah’s Ark, and to keep my Missouri residency.

I realize Mary is only influential in her small hometown of Dayton, she’s just a big fish in a small pond, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with the ramifications of being on her bad list.

I am currently angry at that potentate of Dayton, Mary, who still holds a grudge against me, because she knows as well as I do that my only real mistake was knowing too much about her personal life for her comfort.

Dayton may think Mary is the perfect family member, business owner, and healer she portrays herself to be, but I know the truth–she is no luminary, she’s just terrified the town will see the real her.

I think Mary was always spoiled, always had a bad temper, and always held grudges against perceived enemies and threats to her security, but I think without all her money she wouldn’t see herself as a sort of dignitary who could do no wrong in the community.

As frustrating as it is to know Mary is not just the highly motivated tycoon with upstanding morals that she wants people to know, I refuse to engage in a power struggle with her–I’ll just write a book about my experiences.

“Something happened from the very first time with you. . .  Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try and fill with me with doubt. . .  In this world of loneliness I see your face. . .  I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you.”

I felt something powerful from the first time I met you–and from the first time I imbued upon alcohol.

When I came back to Nevada that August of 2007, all three of us were regularly charged with some sort of alcohol–it was a fun, care-free month.

I honestly tried to get myself back together when I went to Nevada, but the alcohol pervaded every aspect of the Cabin-Mansion with Kim drinking constantly, Mary drinking frequently, revolving guests, family around all the time, celebrations galore, and party after party.

Kim and alcohol were one and the same, and during my time at the Cabin-Mansion I loved both and permeated myself with them often.

Everyone involved was so sloppy that it was a freight train to disaster.

After the excitement of being there settled, I quickly realized there were many problems at the Cabin-Mansion including Kim’s drinking, but I stocked vodka in my fifth wheel so Kim would sneak out of Mary’s sight to wet her whistle, and as a consequence would chat with me for a little while.

I usually drank with Kim, but when she got a head start on me once and I saw with clear eyes how infused she was with drink I was actually afraid of both her drunkenness and how she drove home.

Despite the problem drinking (for both of us) I longed to moisten my lips with Kim. . .

It hurts my heart to see Kim’s present picture–the way her face is bloated and permanently dyed a ruddy hue.

“I can’t leave and I can’t stay. . .  Maybe I’m not your perfect kind, maybe I’m not what you had in mind. . .

Mary felt the need to issue many dictums including:  “I am no longer your mentor,” and “You are formally evicted,” which were implied, overly harsh, and unnecessary.

Though I saw things going sour almost immediately, I could not leave because I would lose enrollment money to UNR, so I had the adage, “things couldn’t get any worse,” and it proved incorrect.

Mary had the silent edict that I was not welcome in the Cabin-Mansion other than to use the bathroom, and then only during daylight hours and when no guests or company were present–this made life very difficult.

Mary also had the (not so silent) decree no one in her inner circle that was to remain on good terms with her could speak to me–it became unbearable being ostracized (for no good reason).

At first, I tried to remember that it was everyone else who was crazy and tried to live by the aphorism of keeping my head up and going about my business, but soon, the isolation and negativity got to me and affected me in a bad way.

In the end, I was completely depressed, my self esteem took a great hit, and I was very lonely–it was then my main apothegmwas to get out of there–by any means possible.

You with your silky words. . .  You with steel beliefs, that don’t match anything you do.  It was so much easier before you became you. . .  Now you don’t bring me anything but down. . .  Everything just crashes to the ground. . .  No more long and wasted nights. . .

While Mary was telling me to get my shit together, focus on school, and mend my relationship with my parents, she was falling apart in her mid life crises, cutting back her work schedule substantially, and cheating on her wife of thirteen years–wrapping my mind around the hypocracy caused me to suffer enervation that I could not stop.

I was a very languorous process trying to see Mary in a new light–and I still haven’t completely accepted it.

My biggest trigger for the debilitation called depression is finding out people (I trusted) are different than I originally thought.

As with Douche, finding out Mary was not the respectable, hard-working, loyal person I had thought she was brought on aweariness that was only relieved with alcohol.

When I lived in the Cabin-Mansion it seemed like I was always suffering from a tiredness, but unable to sleep–this was probably depression.

I wanted to prove that I could be a great student, and good worker, but the drinking caused a great listlessness, and I needed the alcohol to feel less anxious about the pervasive negativity infecting my living quarters, work environment, and everyone I ever came in contact with.

The lassitude lasted a full year after I moved away from the Cabin-Mansion–even despite my best efforts to get back on track–depression doesn’t just go away because you remove yourself from the environment which brought it on.

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